Norwegian Wood
by Random Minion
Summary: Harry has a desk at the ministry. Ginny is a drummer in a band, Ron says to Harry you should get a girl so Harry goes off to try his hand… Ob-la-di Ob-la-da life goes on bra. Lala how the life goes on. COMPLETE
1. At Home

**Norwegian Wood**

**Summery/Disclaimer/Author's Note: **This fic was created purely as a shameless plea for reviews, no more no less. How very immoral.

**Chapter One: White Collar Man **

**Part One: At Home**

It was some years after I had graduated from Hogwarts and had begun to establish myself in the Wizarding community that I decided I needed something more. Most surprisingly I had fallen into the mundane existence of adult life with a sense of relief. Youthful fame does not last nor does it cover the utilities, you can't eat old glory, and you definitely can't pay the bills with it. This revelation had hit me repeatedly and with Bludger-like force in my first year out of Hogwarts. Outwardly I never expected it to be easy, all my friends and in fact all who knew me will tell you, that I hadn't let _Who I Was_ go to my head. But that's not strictly true. Somewhere inside me, maybe that side that the sorting hat found as Slytherin cried out that I deserved an easy ride from here.

I don't know how many of these feelings showed, I hated being a hero. Ron and Hermione can testify to that, not that the world at large believed it. There were times, especially after the death of Sirius that I wanted to give up altogether, just go back to being a normal boy under the stairs. Still somehow I carried this image of myself defeating Voldemort and then just going off and retiring, poof! A fantasy of a job well done. Salutes in all papers, vindication for what I had suffered, getting my dues, call it what you will. When I dreamt that, I was to young to understand that society is like a child, something one must protect without thought of reward.

I may not have been the arrogant snot Malfoy was, but I still had my secret hidden conceit and the gnawing guilt that accompanied it, when it suggested that perhaps, just perhaps, I deserved something more; recognition, gratitude, good marks, the head boy's badge, or a cushy job at the end for all I had done. I hated that part of my mind, those wholly un-Gryffindor feelings.

Paradoxically it was Malfoy that kept the most corrosive of my thoughts at bay. His whining and complaining, the jibes and the hateful superiority that I had endured all those years at Hogwarts struck me. It was his behavior that slapped me into awareness of my own hypocrisy that hit me when he fancied that I was favored and he complained, while he himself walked around in a proactive cloud of nepotism, enraging as it was I had no choice but to hid my resentment when the benefits that never materialized. If only to prove that I _was_ the better man.

Nonetheless you can't live your life as a hero and still not be somewhat affected. Now that years have passed and I can see back more clearly than perhaps I could at the time; I can admit that I was a self-involved prat, but I was fourteen and fighting lord Voldemort, can you really blame me? When you are thrust into the limelight as the savior of an entire people you start to believe that society owes you something for all you have suffered.

Voldemort's death threw me into the same situation as all the young wizards my age; out of work, positions clogged with boomers still yet to retire and a market far from its peak I found myself floundering like a fish out of water. Needless to say it came as a shock. Everyone seemed to be pestering me about whether I would be 'demanding compensation'.

Talk of settlements annoyed me, I saw my life everywhere, my finances, my personal relations every facet of my life in one rag or another or being whispered about as I passed in the street. It was probably mostly my own imagination, after all one always wants to think that they are more the center of attention than they actually are. Even so it was probably truer in my case then in many others, whether to the degree I imagined it or not. Inflated sense of self-importance and all that pop-psychology business.

I might have gone loopy had the Weasleys not whisked me off on a camping trip that summer after graduation. I remember Hermione, Ron and myself sitting on the seashore, the ocean rough and choppy, a single sailboat floating aimlessly out on the uncertain water, and her telling me that 'I mustn't expect too much'. To hear Hermione taking down to me like a spoilt child hurt my Gryffindor pride. But looking back it was then that I determined to make it on my own.

I found a job, nothing glamorous, in fact nothing interesting at all, an office job, paper pushing at the ministry. I suppose I could have been an Auror and gone on to fight the good fight against more of the threats that cropped up in the uncertain aftermath of the Post-Voldemort Wizarding World. They had offered, but I had refused.

When I consulted Hermione and Ron, they both told me it was probably for the best. No need for more excitement, I had had enough right? Why put myself further in the way of the public eye? They were right of course, but that was not really why I refused taking up the offer. Personally I thought that my presence as an Auror might have brought up other copycats or malicious wannabes intent on testing their skill against the legendary Harry Potter. It was ridiculous I know, but as I said before, I did have my secret sense of self-importance. I also didn't think I could stand many more snide remarks on the favoritism that lay at the root of what could possibly been my great success.

For the next few years following my employment as Paper-pusher Extraordinaire at my desk in the Ministry's Department of Muggle Co-operation, I lived a rather subdued let down of a life. I had my flat and my biweekly check piped into my bank account in Gringotts, I had my Muggle telly, my occasional nights out with Ron and dinners at his and Hermione's shared house in the suburbs. Then there was the occasional visit by Remus or Tonks to look forward to. To tell the truth it was heaven, a wonderfully ordered rest after a chaotic, stress-filled youth.

Things fell easily into a routine, and for all the lack of adventure I felt safe, happy and content. The papers backed off after a couple of months of my doing nothing more interesting than Apparating to work. Somehow headlines like 'Harry Stays at Office 'til Five-fifteen' or 'Potter Scrubs his Tub' didn't interest the vast majority of the reading public. I can't think why.

For these first three years I remember coming home tired after a long day to the empty flat and feeling wonderful knowing I could just plop myself down on the divan and be alone. I had never had a space that was strictly my own before moving to my flat and I relished my independence. It felt great to be alone and free at last. I could get angry and scream when things annoyed me, I could cook my own dinner when I wanted and eat it where I wanted, it was the autonomy I had longed for during those long summers with the Dursleys.

I had the most typical of typical lives and I loved it. I remember once back when I was living with the Dursleys', Dudley had been watching one of those educational programs, before we had satellite and only had a few channels. It had been a program on Japanese workers. I think it was called something along the lines of "The Corporate Samurai" or "Cookie Cutter Men" I can't remember now. The only image that stuck with me was a sea of white collared, black-crowned bodies going through normal daily lives, the same thing everyday. It had stuck me as paradise. Maybe the fact that Dudley thought it was the worst place on earth contributed somewhat to this impression, but I couldn't help feeling that to be one of the masses, just for a while was the best I could ever hope for. I had gotten that wish and I was happy. But like all things this had to change eventually.

If there was one positive thing I can say about the Dursleys, it was that they taught me to be clean. Not that Dudley or uncle Vernon ever were particularly clean themselves; to put it mildly Dudley was a pig, the tail had merely clinched it. Nevertheless for all my time with them cleaning up after Dudley, doing the dishes, moping, polishing and hanging out the laundry, I learnt to appreciate cleanliness and order.

My flat was never a mess; I took pride in that, a secret guilty kind of pride, especially when I compare it to Ron and Hermione's house. Or even Remus' secluded cottage. Hermione is truly brilliant academically but she has no time for such things as cleaning. And Ron, well I have never seen Ron doing more than a few dishes, traditional family values, gender roles and all that, he really lives by them. Remus by all accounts is an immaculate person, and I would believe anyone who tells you this, his classes in Hogwarts were always organized. Then again, with first Sirius and now Tonks living with him, things seem to happen.

I visited them last summer. It is beautiful up in the moors, in the open spaces away from the smog of the city, but their house… Remus must try, but having Tonks around all the time, things get broken, lost, misplaced, everything becoming the general clutter of her life.

In general I was content with my flat. It was plain, just as a bachelor's flat should be. Bed, kitchenette, washroom, small den come library, come sitting room, come dining room with a few bookshelves and the big telly, the only decoration. I hate clutter. There was always too much of it at the Dursleys. Victorian bric-a-brac collecting dust along side gruesomely framed family pictures and various drill models that uncle Vernon could not bare to have anyone throw away. 'This one is the one that Makita's Vice-President of Foreign Interests gave to me on the signing of our one-year contract, and this one was given to be by Royal tool's…' and on and on. Hogwarts too, had its share of decorative memorabilia but somehow it had fit there, more so than back at the Dursleys. Maybe I just liked it more because I didn't have to clean it.

But after four years of this self-satisfied lifestyle I was becoming rapidly discontent. I didn't have the feeling that something was missing, but I wasn't sure I wanted it anymore. Coming home every night to the same old boring routine of cooking, washing up, interchangeably doing laundry, dusting or scrubbing out the bathroom had lost its charm. I was a man and I didn't what to spend my time playing house all by myself. One day I brought up the subject to Ron over lunch.

"You need to get a girlfriend."

It came out remarkably clearly despite him having shoveled half the plate of chips into his mouth the moment before. Practice I guessed. I merely stared at him blankly.

"You may be a little pansyish sometimes but I know you aren't some fairy, you need a woman."

I choked a bit on that one, Sirius had been homosexual and ever since I had found out, mention of it in such a derogatory fashion had rubbed me the wrong way.

We like to eat lunch in a little pub off Parselton road; it's close to both his and my offices. The food is decent and the price is reasonable, the clientele however is most likely to be coworkers and I didn't much appreciate the thought of having my feelings or any other aspect of my personal life publicized around the office. But we're regulars, despite the new Wizdey's burger joint right around the coroner.

"Ron, can you keep it down a little." I said frowning.

"Sorry." He grinned sheepishly looking apologetic.

"Don't you have some one at the office you like?" I shook my head.

"Then why not go out a bit more, heck I have more social life then you do even with a girlfriend to tie me down, and I don't have your name."

"That's exactly the problem." I said.

Yet another half-truth, people seem to think I retreated on account of over publicity, yes it's true, but that wasn't my primary motivation. I just had to get away from everything, the years I had fought Voldemort had, well, hurt me and I needed time to pull myself back into the normal world. It had been fun at first, when I was in school, being in tournaments and winning at Quidditch, but in the outside world there are more Malfoys and Snapes than Dumbledores and you are more likely to be disliked for you popularity than worshiped, even if they get to know you. Society should learn to keep their heroes at arms length if they don't want to spoil their illusions.

Ron had been silent on that topic for the rest of lunch. We talked of other things; I can't remember exactly what any more but I do remember they were not particularly important, even at the time. I had almost forgoten the whole conversation until a few nights later. I was sitting at home comfortably sipping a butter beer as I lounged on the couch reading the latest Quidditch scores, with Pinkum gone the Americans didn't stand a chance, when the fire which had been glowing sleepily burst up with renewed vigor.

"Harry, you there?" Ron's voice broke in to my perusal of the charts.

"Yes I'm right here by the couch."

"Can you come to the fire, I can hardly here you, your mantel has no range." I discarded the newspaper and got up.

"What?" I asked once I stood beside the fire.

I really should look into getting a portable, I hear they have new ones that do double duty as toasters. I still haven't got one, wonder if I ever will get round to it.

"We are going out, you know that new place around the corner, bit of a pub type setup, they have some live music tonight. One of the groups plays on the radio some times. We were wondering if you wanted to join?"

He looked as if he were already flustered, something about the fall of his hair, had a slightly combative look; in the background I could here Hermione's shrill voice though only faintly.

"I guess." I said not wanting to commit myself.

Ron and Hermione's fights are not something I care to get in the middle of.

"Come. Please tell me you'll come. Hermione won't leave me alone unless you do, she says I have to do right by you as your best friend and all that, bloody hell come or she'll eat me." Ron looked desperate.

I guessed I had no choice I was his skin or mine, and I had always had a 'thing for saving people'. I nodded and smiled at him. He let out a sigh of what I could only assume was relief. They love each other, but they do tend to drive one another up the wall.

"See you at seven-thirty then. The Bubbling Pit, you know it right? We'll try to get a table in the back."

"Alright, that's the one just off Cronesroost?"

"Yes that's it, see you there. Is that the newest issue of Quidditch World?" I herd a thunk from the fire and Ron turned away rolling his eyes emphatically, "Yes, okay Hermione I'm coming! Harry I have to go, duty calls,"

"Don't worry I'll bring the mag."

We exchanged conspiratorial grins and within a moment his head had popped back out of sight and the flames sank back into glowing embers and flakes of white ash.

**Reviewing Made Easy**

For all of you who never know what to say here is what you've been waiting for, (and just didn't know it!) Now you can just cut and past your way to a successful review! (yes this is how low I will sink to get your feedback!)

( ) Hey! I just read this, I think it's great please write more!  
( ) Hey! I didn't bother to read this, but I think it's crap anyway so don't bother continuing!  
( ) I thought this was a song fic.  
( ) May the Stones rock on forever!  
( ) But isn't Norwegian wood a Beatles song?  
( ) The Stones are here, the Beatles are gone!  
( ) Then why didn't you write a fic about a Stones song. Are you Torontonian by any chance?  
( ) I think you're getting a bit carried away.  
( ) I thought the words you used were cool! Love nepotism, such a Draco-ish word!  
( ) Too many big words and what the heck is nepotism? (And no I don't have dictionaries where I live so stop staring at me like that!)  
( ) That felt kind'a OOC…  
( ) Wow that was so in character and it's your first time writing Harry. Good for you!  
( ) This isn't going to be another one of those fics were it takes you forever to get to the point is it?  
( ) I want raunchiness!  
( ) Doesn't everybody? roles eyes  
( ) I noticed you had a few errors can I fix them for you and send this back?  
( ) I loved the part when (enter part here)  
( ) Let me know when you update.  
( ) This is not such a great fic (I regret reading it/it was a pointless waste of time) don't bother contacting me.  
( ) Wow! This fic fits in with your other work the House on the Moor, is this going to be a series?


	2. Gone Out

** AN: Here, have some more filler, God! Do I ever take a long time to get to the point… don't worry like a Granny-Mobile the end will arrive… eventually.**

**Chapter One: White Collar Man   
Part Two: Gone Out **

Ron had flooed just before seven, probably on orders from Hermione, I was sure she knew that if I were given too much time to brood I probably would back out. For a Gryffindor girl she is damnably manipulative at times. As it was I barely had time for a shower and change before having to rush out cloak in one hand broom in the other, my hair left to dry haphazardly en-route. 

Speeding high into the low hanging cloud cover I whizzed over London, cloak flapping loudly, the sudden change in altitude making my ears pop. Five minutes and I had to descend again. Nose-diving I let the remains of my shower be blown unceremoniously from of my disheveled hair before landing. Combing it down with my hand as best I could, I glanced at the street signs. I was on Bain, Cronesroost was the next street over; I decided to hoof it to the Bubbling Pit. 

The establishment was already crowded and I felt slightly out of place in its excessively lively ambience. Better than usual. By the variations on Queen's English and the pile wilted Labour papers by the bar I could tell that these people were not the type to care who the great Harry Potter had once been. A middle class place, I could breath easy without fear of the Wash-ups and Up and Comings in Hermione's ritzier lounges or those more questionable persons that favoured the seamy dive that Ron had dragged me into on one particularly memorable occasion. It always seems to me that it is the extreme ends of society that cling to glory, perhaps it is because they are the one's who are farthest from the happy medium. Or perhaps it is because the middle class is to occupied and lacks the leisure time to indulge in more news than that of the hear and now. What ever the reason for it is I can rest easy. 

Chucking my broom and cloak in the visitors closet after having a rather embarrassing run in with the door man, I made my way into the pub to scout out my friends. The bouncer problem has happened before, they never will believe that I am really not still some teenager, at times I almost look forward to gray hair, at least then they won't be able to say I'm some punk kid trying to sneak a Mickey while my parents are off playing bridge. 

It took me a quarter of an hour to find their table. The place itself was small but already filled to overflowing and the semidarkness made it difficult to distinguish one face from another. I probably missed them several times before I picked out Hermione's upper curst cadence amongst the glottal stops and discarded H's, and a moment latter I made our Ron's blazing top in a booth at the back. Finding them at last, I sank down into the little alcove they had by some magic managed to save. 

"I was worried that you had decided you had better things to do." She admonished me through the half gloom. 

"Now Hermione, he only just got here." Ron grinned boyishly up at me, shifting over on the vinyl-covered bench. "Did you think to bring the mag, guess not? Well, Hermione was convinced you wouldn't be coming…" Ron trailed off and I had a sneaking suspicion that there was some deeper importance to my presence on this particular night. There was anxiousness to Ron's congeniality and it was all to apparent that something was 'supposed to happen'. 

"You might as well tell him." Hermione interjected sounding not a little waspish. 

She was smiling, showing her teeth but still with that same restlessness, exacting edge that possessed Ron. She was a great friend but at times like these I wondered how it was that Ron could put up with her. As close as I am to both of them the premise of their relationship eludes me. For one thing she can't cook, I always thought that Ron would never go for anyone that was not a wizard in the kitchen as well as the sack. All this flashed though my mind as I waited for the reason from my presence became clear. 

Ron was looking uneasy at Hermione's suggestion. Finally he clapped me on the shoulder in an overly jovial way that I recognized only too well, something was indeed up. 

"Well Harry my man it's almost eight and we haven't even had our first round, what do you say to going up and buying us something to drink." I nodded and he thwacked me on the shoulder again before saying "Good sport" rather too loudly right next to my ear. 

Weaving back though the crowd again and past a small live music stage where tonight's band was just setting up I made my way to the bar. This being a Wizarding establishment I ordered three pints of Almost Ale. Hermione had always had something against full ale and to night I sensed that I better not put any unintentional spanners in the works. 

The barman scoffed heartily into his moustache when I called out the order. 

"Flyin'?" he asked rather gruffly. 

"No, my friends girlfriend." I was flying but I have never found that that is the best thing to say to anyone in the liquor business. At my response he seemed to become noticeably more friendly shooting me a sympathetic look from under heavy eyebrows. 

"Ay, all ways got to please the lasses. Are yea stayin' fer the band tonight they'r ruddy decent as I understand." I told him that I was, and absconded as soon as possible with our drinks, social skills are not my forte. 

When I got back to the table after a some what parlous journey though the masses and with several near spills, Ron and Hermione were whispering to one another, and she looked more at her ease and had discarded her book as if she had almost entirely forgot its existence. Upon reflection I doubt there has ever been a time when Hermione has not gone out with out a book, even if it is just a paperback stashed in her handbag. I don't think I can imagine her with out it, just as many people can't see me with out my glasses. 

"Drinks." I said smiling as I plonked them down on the worn and heavily polished table, at Hermione's inquiring glance I added rather defensively, "It's only Almost Ale!" I caught Ron's look of disappointment but shrugged at him and tilted my head to Hermione. 

"So, what was it you were going to tell me?" I asked as casually as I could once I had sat down. 

There was a pause and I could see Ron nudging Hermione's arm. I had to suppress a smile, he is usually such a traditionalist, and now here he is palming off the job of telling his best friend something, that's obviously important, onto a girl. 

"No, you tell him Ron, you said you wanted to." Was Hermione's somewhat admonishing response. Ron looked at her pleadingly, I probably wasn't meant to see it but Ron had never been one for subtlety. 

"All right, all right, Harry… Ron and I have decided to get engaged, we haven't told anyone else yet but we wanted you to be the first to know." There it was out. The way Hermione put it, it felt like nothing. 

To tell the truth I had been expecting it for some time now but nonetheless I still found myself feeling a mild surprise, which I have long recognized as the preliminaries to a later greater feeling of shock. For the moment however I knew my role and congratulations were quick to follow. 

"Ron, Hermione, I'm happy for you both" it sounded only particularly sincere 

"We were worried that you would say we were too young" Ron intoned. 

"No _you_ were worried that_ your mum_ would say we were to young, we haven't told her yet Harry, you know how she is, sometimes all is right and in its place and then she'll hear something and fly into a fit." 

"My mum does not fly into a fit! But anyway Harry if we have you on our side it will help I think, mum likes you, do you think you could drop a word in for us next time your at the borrow. We haven't told her yet but we want to kind'a like… what's it called, pave the way." 

"Ron! I will not have you shirking the job off onto Harry." 

Relatively peaceable conversation over took our table and by the end of our first round Ron was grinning dopily his arm draped around Hermione all worries for the moment dispelled and I, doing my best not to look and feel the third wheel. Here they where, young and in love and I didn't even have a girl to call my own. 

It was nine and the band had started playing, their thuds and bumps drowned out any further possibility for conversation. I watched for the next two rounds as my friends became more and more engrossed in each other. I have to forgive them, we are still young enough to disregard most social norms on occasions, and having just announced their engagement I could understand that they would want time apart form me, but their success only served to emphasize my own failure in the relationship department. 

To kill time I had taken to looking round the room, playing the game of 'spot that vocation'. Easiest where the lower level ministry men, their vinyl brief cases tucked surreptitiously under their seats gave them away if the slight shininess of their polyester robes did not. There were a few foreigners, mostly American wizards, they Apparated via the new step root over Greenland and Iceland, for a casual weekend. They could always be seen slumming it in some where that could be though of as slightly more than what could only be assumed were their normal hangouts. 

I've never been to America but, I'm not overly fond of Americans, they seem to be enthralled by what they consider to be England's 'Old World Charm' and coo over our accents in their course tones. It's maddening. Plus they get roundly, not to say we don't. Beside this there was a gaggle of production line girls, almost as loud as the Americans and slowly spilling over onto their table. You could tell that certain amongst them would not be spending the night at home. I only hoped they had thought to bring protection. 

The music was not that bad, a mash of guitar, enhanced with magic to take off the twang yet unable to completely dispel the amateurish simplicity of the cords. The vocalist, a rather lanky man with a slightly receding hairline that was accentuated by the fact that he wore his hair long, wove his simple lyrics with an unexpected finesse. I looked out over the five person band two guitarists one of who seems to also play a bass, a keyboardist the vocalist and a drummer. It was the drummer who caught my eye, carroty hair catching the harsh lights, the same shade as Ron's. Weasley hair, I thought whimsically. I continued this aimless examination until a quarter-past ten when Ron and Hermione decided that it was time to go. 

"Do you have a ride?" Hermione asked when I made no move to follow them. 

"Yeah, I brought my broom don't worry. I think I will stay for a bit." She gave a somewhat surprised look and then bet down to kiss my cheek good night. 

"Have fun then." She must have thought I needed the encouragement; she isn't usually the kissing type. 

Did everyone think I needed to get attached that badly? I would have been annoyed at her insinuation if I hadn't had those last couple of drinks. As it was I didn't much care. Ron was standing rather impatiently with their coats and I could see he couldn't wait to get out and back to their apartment, it obviously had a bed. I smiled to my self, at lest I wasn't that transparent. 

I suck around not really wanting to be there but not wishing to go back to the apartment either. The dishes from breakfast were still sitting in the sink. For once I was just going to leave them there. When all things considered I was a single unattached young man, I had the right to be out! Hermione's little insinuation must have had some subconscious effect on me. The band continued to play almost unceasingly, I had moved to the bar where I had a better view and had resumed my scrutiny of the pub. As predicted the Americans and the factory girls were now irrevocably entangled, and slowly dropping out by twos. Sitting watching them trail out I felt almost voyeuristic. In some part of my mind I could hear myself denounce it as immoral just to sit there and do nothing, slightly jealous of their success, but it was an adventure and I had nothing better to do. 

The band didn't let up; the lanky man had given way to one of the guitarists, and was sitting out nursing a drink. The crowd gradually thinned but I was determined not to leave out of shear perverse soberness, I would not submit to the calls of my domestic life. I stayed until last call for drinks at eleven, when everyone rushed to the bar amid I felt compelled to vacate my seat. The band had stopped and was beginning to pack up. 

The bar was closing in half an hour so I decided to stick it out. Who knew someone might come along and tap me on the shoulder, sweep me off my feet. You never knew. But I can't say I held out much hope, I've always been slightly timid when it comes to approaching girls. With the exception of Hermione they are somewhat of a mystery and even Hermione has her days. I guess that is why I haven't really had a steady relationship since I left Hogwarts. There have been a few but no one really; I tend to get paranoid when they approach me. I don't what someone only after 'The Boy Who Lived'. Five minutes to close guess I should have gone home and watched telly after all. 

"Harry? Is that you?" a finger taped me one the shoulder and I must admit I jumped. 

*** 

**Random Minion's Reviewing Made Easy™ **

(This system feels like it's getting old.) Copy and past the form into the review box then check your preferred options, feel free to add your own or just leave comments. 

( ) That was great! Please continue! (honestly this is the most boring option and the least useful response yet oddly enough the most frequent so don't be afraid to come out and say it.)  
( ) I thought from all the tension you were building up that Ron and Hermione you tell Harry something big!  
( ) I felt quite let down when it turned out they were only getting married.  
( ) I was so happy when it turned out they were engaged, hope Ron's mum is ok with it!   
( ) What are you thinking? Ron can't be with Hermione! Draco/Hermione all the way!!!   
( ) What on earth were you smoking! Hermione can't be with Ron! Ron/Draco all the way!!!   
( ) …when is this going to be a song fic already.   
( ) This isn't really the most exciting fic around.   
( ) this fic is down right boring, when is Ginny going to show up sp they can have hot passionate sex?   
( ) I liked the part when ( enter part here )   
( ) Telephone poles are good people!   
( ) Hey what's up with Harry not liking Americans?!   
( ) Ya! I really don't like the way non-Brits always fawn over the British accent.   
( ) Please contact me when you next update. 

**Question:** Can you give me three words to describe what you think the main character traits for Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny would be?Thanks I really appreciate your contribution. 


	3. Stayed Out

**Chapter Two: Quilted Queen of Sheba**

Part One: Stayed Out 

I whipped around upsetting the beer mug; thank goodness it was empty. I had only been half-serious about the tapping shoulder thing, but here I was face to face with… 

"Shut your mouth and put your eyes back in your head, is that any way to greet your best friend's little sister." Ginny, I had thought the drummer looked familiar. Moody would have been ashamed by my lack of perception. 

"Oh, hello," I said rather awkwardly. What do you say when you see someone who you haven't seen in so long that you really don't feel you know them anymore, not that that was how I felt exactly, it's just so hard to describe these things. 

"I don't see you for almost two years and all you can say is hello…" She looked half let down half embarrassed, but certainly as confident as ever she'd been in Hogwarts. I had seen her at Charlie's wedding two years ago, that year she had missed Christmas at The Burrow and last year I wasn't able to make it either. Since her graduation I had really never talked to her, not a real conversation and now here she was standing right in front of me looking more than a little peeved. 

"Sorry Ginny, I thought I recognized you when I say you playing but I couldn't be sure…" I trailed off, she looked as if she were expecting, something, a hug? Would that be to forward? Too much of what a 'friend' would do? 

"I guess I can forgive you. I haven't seen you in forever. How are you doing?" 

"Oh, well I'm fine." I struggled to form a description of my life and found that all I could come up with was Paper-pusher which didn't sound all that great. "I work at the ministry now." I said lamely. "When did you start playing? No one ever told me you liked music." Anything to get her talking so I didn't have to. 

"They took me in when I graduated, I've always liked music, ever since I listened to the Weird Sisters I guess. They first inspired me to become part of a band, it all seemed so glamorous. Plus…" She was interrupted by the lanky man I had seen earlier. I got up to go and retrieve my broom and she followed. 

"Gin! There you are. We're all packed up and ready to go and I think they want us to clear off so the rest of us are leaving; you'd better hurry if you want a ride. Who's your friend? Does he need a ride anywhere?" 

"Ok Nick we're coming, this is Harry I had the biggest crush on him while I was at Hogwarts." She gave me an impish smile and I couldn't help smiling back with all the Boyfriends she had popping in and out of her life it was a wonder Ron hadn't exploded. 

We shock hands in a jovial 'let's be friends for Ginny's sake' sort of way. He seemed to be quite a nice guy, in his thirties with a rather protective streak and an air of command. I found myself being lead by him and Ginny to meet the rest of the band. There was Mac the guitarist who had also done the vocals, Sev the dirty blond whose instrument I couldn't remember, and Paul a rather long faced man that didn't look anything like his famous Beatles namesake. I guessed a life filled with brothers had made Ginny fit in perfectly. She introduced them to me one at a time and I shock hands, listening, trying to relax. Dragons, quests and big bad evil lords are my specialty not hobnobbing with my best friend's sister's adopted second family, but I managed well enough. 

We all made our way out into the front and stood waiting for Nick who had apparently gone off to drive the van around. Sev, after explaining that his real name was actually Boric and that he had changed it for 'reason of publicity', started rambling on pleasantly about the band. I was left to wonder if he had ever taken potions at Hogwarts, probably not. Professor Snape is one of those people I don't like to be reminded of. 

"… And so Ginny said she didn't like that name so I asked her 'well what in the name of blue blooded bats do you want' and she came straight out and said Euphoria Goop…" I nodded smiling in what I hoped was a chummy way; Ginny looked up glaring at him. 

"It was a great name…" she shot in before Sev could resume his story. Apparently he didn't like to leave gaps in his monologues for the conduction of normal conversation. 

"No it wasn't, but anyway Paul said it didn't work for our sound, what was it you said Paul? It sounded too tacky? takey?" Paul might have moved to say something if Sev had given him the chance but Sev just plowed ahead. "And we all had to listen to what Paul said because at the time he was the only one with enough Galleons to pay the rent." 

"So we ended up calling ourselves the Felly-Tone Cords. You remember how those Muggle talking things became popular about three years back…" Ginny broke in again, pouting at the name. 

I really didn't care either way but Ginny did look sweet when she pouted and she was my best chance at an interesting evening so I figured I had best slide with her on that one. But before I could think of something to say the barman came out to shoo us off the premises just as an immensely heavy old microbus lumbered into the yard, it lurched to a halt and looked sullenly as if it were about to go to wreck were it stood as Nick jumped out. Lank-legged, he stalked over too us and waved his thanks to the bar tender. 

"Alright you two that's enough I doubt Harry cares either way, come on everybody into the van now. You coming then?" he asked looking quickly over at me. I really didn't know until Ginny grabbed my arm pushing me towards their dilapidated van. 

"'Course he is." 

We all squished in with the various instruments and stage equipment; the bus seemed cramped despite obviously being charmed to accommodate more. Nick appeared to be driving and with Paul riding shot gun a large map on his knees, while Mac, Sev, Ginny and I squeezed in the back. Sev continued to ramble on about how they had formed interrupted occasionally by Ginny as they drove. I found I had nothing to say and that combined with the fact that Mac was staring at me in an all too intense manner was making me intensely uncomfortable. They were embroiled an argument over some Muggle group I vaguely remembered and if John Lennon was really a Muggle or whether he had been a wizard when Mac finally turned to me and spoke. 

"I hear the canons are doing better now that the war is over." His gaze was intense and his voice and urgent whisper as if he were affirming the presence of Voldemort. 

I was so taken by surprise at the mundaneness of the topic combined with the incredible drama with which he spoke that I was thrown for a loop and merely stammered. 

"Er- yes much better." I had forgotten all about them. 

"You play Quidditch much any more?" 

"A bit" 

"Remember the faithful are always rewarded in the end." He said with a deep brevity, I just nodded and tried to look grave. A second latter Mac had sunk back in his seat and was giving off the impression that he had never spoken. Weird bunch. I started regretting having consented to come along. 

"Gin here, you see, well she's a big fan of that group, what's their name again Gin? We played one of their songs tonight." 

"The Beatles" Ginny replied punching Sev's arm in a aggravated sisterly way. 

It always makes me feel a little out of place when I see people acting like that. I never really had siblings and well, I miss not being able to have that kind of closeness even with Ron. He's my best friend, but I don't think I could ever think of him as a sibling. 

We drove on, all of us crashed in with the equipment and chatting. Well, Sev and Ginny seemed to talk enough for all of us, until I felt the smooth roll of tarmac give way to the rougher grind of shoddy gravel. Then the bus made a desperate swerved fast right and all of us in the back were tumbled on to the floor on top of each other. 

"'ay a bit a notice would'a gone a miss you blood buggers!" Sev yelled sounding from his sprawled state on top of an affronted Mac. I really wasn't about to complain about my current position. Ginny had landed in my lap, if at a bit of an odd angle. This was something I had not had in a while, and my stomach was clenching nervously at the possibility of things I would rather not mention. 

"We've only done this ride a hundred bloody times, you'da think that some of us would get the hang of the road and maybe put on their belts." Paul said. 

"Well if I were riding shotgun and able to see what's going on I would have had the common decency to say that the turn was coming up." Sev responded having finally disentangled his foot from a pile of wire and pushed back to his seat. We lurched to a terrific halt with more grinding of gravel and he was thrown again back on top of the unfortunate Mac. 

"You're getting off here so I wouldn't be complaining, at least Nick gets you back in one piece unlike some people" was Paul's reply 

"Enough." Nick, short and to the point. "Are you getting out or will you three be staying on for the ride." 

I didn't follow this but assumed that the ultimatum had been set because Paul in the front had turned back to his map and Sev and Ginny were disengaging themselves and making their way towards the doors. 

"Good night then." I said following suit not exactly knowing what to say. "Thanks for the lift." Paul grinned at me through the side window; something about his look made me wonder what I was letting my self in for. Oh well it was too late now and well I am a man and all that… 

The van screeched out of the yard with a spray of gravel and the three of us headed towards the farmhouse, our feel crunching. I got a stone in my shoe; I really don't like gravel. A lamp with an enchanted light bulb that hovered just above where the socket should be eliminated the door. I wondered where we are but no one seemed to be talking so I was not one to break the silence, but I found myself more and more uncomfortable. What was I here for, romance? Adventure? I didn't know what if Ginny was going out with this Sev character already and she just invited me along for old times' sake in typical Ginny fashion. I was making my self feel quite nervous. 

Sev was fumbling for keys when Ginny took my arm. I was so surprised I started. When I looked down at her I could feel my face burning read and hoped to hell the shadows covered it, they must not have for she was grinning at me in the most impish manner possible, a true Weasley. Oh well Sev didn't seem like the overly possessive type and it wasn't as if I was going to do anything. The door swing open and a yellow pool spilled out into the courtyard. 

"SEV! You Useless Git. I _told_ you to floo! Remember, we have to be up for Beth's wedding tomorrow." Sev seemed to cringe as a figure that I could have sworn was Molly Weasley only twenty-five years younger and without the trademark red hair huff her way into the vestibule towards us. 

"Yes dear, I would have only, but… look. Here Sally, Ginny brought a friend with us." The newly arrived Sally shot a menacing glare at Sev, and then turned on me her mood seeming to turn as she did. Magic how women can be raving one minuet and all smiles the next, it's quite disconcerting. 

"Oh hello dear, you must be Ginny's friend. I'm so sorry for the state of the house. We've been so busy what with the wedding and all." she rambled on kindly for a few minutes going though all those comforting common courtesies to which one always knows the answer and isn't required to think. 

Smiling in her roly-poly way the light warm around her she lulled me out of my social ineptitude. There is always something disarming quality about these portly paragons of the home that can't help but put me at my ease. A tug on my arm reminded me of Ginny's presence. Turning away I looked around at her standing at the foot of the stairs looking young and pretty and dangerously female and I felt once more a rush of uncertainty. Both women, and kind ones, but with such opposite motivations, the juxtaposition of the two was unnerving. 

"You want to come up for some tea?" Ginny was still grinning, her eyes sparking with an electric enticing mischief. Fred and gorge would have been pleased. 

We hastened though our goodnights Sally bobbing up and down then dragging away the unfortunate Sev by the ear as he babbled protests. I watched in wonderment and with something akin to jealousy until Ginny's tug on my arm pulled me up the stairs after me. 

"I have the room over the garage, this way." She led me on along the landing and though a door. It was dark as she pulled me in after her, only a faint yellowish light filtered though the windows from the lamps out side. I caught her in profile. 

A sudden impulse flashed thought me; she turned with an air of mystery about her something unknown, some deep sensual attraction I couldn't understand. The way she had opened the door, her hips had swayed in just that way, a silent language of the body, and I knew what was coming, she faced me in the dark and I quickly I could feel her breathing, it wasn't a long drawn out moment but I knew as she pulled me down towards her that we would… 

The kiss miraculously landed on my lips, and it flashed in my mind that she must have had much practice indeed. For all my fumbling, I was not about to complain when she coaxed my lips apart and darted her tongue into my mouth mumbling something I couldn't catch. I did jump when an instant later the sudden brightness of a lit lamp made my eyes ache as the struggled to adjust. 

*** 

**Random Minion's Reviewing Made Easy™**

I'm really looking for your opinion on my OCs. As a general rule I don't like OC's and anything resembling the accursed Mary Sue, or worse the Gary Stew (hope Sev and Sally don't fall into that categories,) so don't be afraid to tell me what you think about them. 

( ) Good, Great (blah blah blah) just update soon.   
( ) Wow something finally happened!   
( ) Contact me when you update next (if you ever get around to it you lazy ass)   
( ) The band members are cool.   
( ) The band members seem to flat.   
( ) Why did you take up so much time talking about characters that aren't even in the cannon?   
( ) I like Sev, Mac scares me and Paul looks like a horse.   
( ) Sally is such a Molly remake, can't you think up your own characters?   
( ) Mundaneness and takey aren't words.   
( ) You can't do accents, pleases don't try.   
( ) For all its faults I still like your fic, glad to see you updated.   
( ) Do I get a prize if I scratch three and find three of the same prizes.   
( ) Yah!, I think I won a free cheeseburger at Wizdy's!   



	4. Spent the Night

**Chapter Two: Quilted Queen of Sheba**

Part two: Spent the Night

I blinked at the sudden light. 

"Why did you do that?" I demanded rubbing my eyes; all I wanted was to remain in wonderful darkness for the rest of the night. 

"Because you looked like you needed it and I don't mind you." she was smiling rather than grinning. 

There was a slight pink tinge to the tips of her ears, but she still met my eyes. I didn't understand, I didn't need the light. Sure, I could see her better, but I would have rather continued in the dark than be struck blind. 

"What, I'm sorry?" I asked, confused. She was laughing at my blinking befuddled expression. 

"Oh! Well it's easier to navigate my floor with the light on isn't it." I glanced around. 

It certainly looked like it would be. There were things scattered everywhere; bits of clothing and magazines, and innumerable old records, there was a great gap over to one side of the bed, I guessed that was where her drums usually would have gone, but other than that there was not a foot of clear space. I felt mildly overwhelmed. 

"Sit down, anywhere is fine." She had picked her way over to the fire and set it blazing with a practiced flick, and was sloshing the kettle onto a peg over the flames. She looked nice her back bent in a perfect arch hair falling into her face, I looked back around anxious to do her bidding only to find that here was not a single chair anywhere. It felt more than a little forward to sit on her bed, so I settled for the floor. Chicken like I scratched a place for myself among the discarded clothes and sweats wrappers. 

Silence, marked only by the crackling fire, began to feel oppressive. Out of habit I started clearing those things within arms reach, wondering where things would go from here. I picked my way though some discarded shirts, a magazine and bottle that had been hidden underneath them. Ginny was picking out cups from a precarious pile that adorned the mantle piece; they all looked somewhat used. 

"I'll just go wash these." She said turning to a screened off portion of the room I had hitherto failed to notice. 

"Ok, what should I do with this then?" I asked, indication the pile of dirty clothes I had gathered with the neck of the wine bottle. 

"You found it. Would you like some of that instead?" Laundry? I asked myself. 

"Er-" for the second time since I had walked into this room I didn't have a clue as to what she was referring. It was as if we were transmitting on different wavelengths. She was picking her way across the room and then dodged behind the screen and I could hear the slosh of water and the squeak of a sponge. 

"Could you help me find the cork screw?" She handed me a teacup as she said this and took the bottle from me. Turning as best I could, I spotted the corkscrew on the bedside table. Oh well, I preferred wind over tea anyway, I wasn't nearly as drunk as I would have preferred after a night out and if she was offering why not just go along with it? I held up the corkscrew. 

"Here." 

"Thank you" she said turning and once again giving me that smile. 

She uncorked it with an experienced hand, sliding the cork out carefully. Somehow I always manage to brake it in the bottle when I try. I picked up my tea cup, proffering it up for her offering. She could have been a girl for some classical drama pouring wine from an anaphora, some forest nymph, or animal sprite. I was enthralled. I took the wine, it was just some cheap red stuff, but I felt as if I had just been entrusted with the elixir of life. 

"I thought you were still at the borrow." I said desperate for some conversation. 

She sat on the bed, throwing the quilt over herself, almost upsetting her teacup as she did. I caught her hand just as she was about to spill. 

"Thanks" 

She felt warm, her hands still slightly damp from the quick washing up. Nervous, I let go, and stared at her, she was so clam, not at all ill at ease. As if it was as natural as breathing to have a man in her room at almost one in the morning. To kiss him. It hurt to think of the circumstances that had breed such a level of self-assurance, but I was still grateful. 

"What are you doing with yourself these days? You mentioned that you were working at the ministry." 

She sipped with all the delicacy that one would have expected at a garden party, an old ladies tearoom. Her legs were telling me another story, the short skirt revealing another side of her. I could feel the muscles in my stomach upsetting themselves. The surface of the wine in my teacup was a mass of shaky ripples. 

"Er- work. It's pretty quite these days, just paperwork; I don't do anything exciting at all. What about you, your life must be much more interesting than mine." I swept my arm around indicating her messy cluttered room, a reflection of her, as if shoving the conversation in her direction. 

"It probably is." She giggled and I laughed too, slightly hurt by her response. 

"You met the band, we drive about from gig to gig and try are damnedest to keep our heads above water. Mum wasn't so pleased when I threw in my lot with them, but I wasn't about to give it up so it really wasn't her choice to make." She refilled our teacups. 

"I thought you'd still be at the borrow." I had been worrying that we would have nothing to talk about; now however it seemed I must have struck a nerve. She frowned and I felt cowed. One wrong move and, well, those thighs that were still so visible, would never be known to me. 

"So what if I'm not" 

"No, no, I didn't mean that, I thought you should be staying at home, I just couldn't' think of you living anywhere else." 

"Sev offered me the room; they were taking on a border anyway, so it was ideal. Ron didn't mention it to you?" she was pacified again, a fluctuation of feminine smiles and remonstrance. I felt queasy on this uncertain and ungluing sea. 

"No, he might have, but I don't remember." 

"Really? He didn't much like it, he's always been a bit overprotective. He thought I should have stayed at home." Obviously Ron's opinions had on been met to favorably in her eyes. Now that she reminded me I remembered Ron saying something. I didn't think it was appropriate to say that at the time I had agreed with him. 

"I guess I can understand." I said noncommittally. 

"It's quite nice around here, there's a little wood in the back. I take walks in it some times, it's one of my favorite places, just to sit in the trees some times. You can't do that much in London." 

"No you can't" I agreed, I don't think I had ever missed the trees myself, but now that I was reminded of them nature did have a certain allure. 

It suddenly occurred to me how very odd my current position was. Here I was in a room with a girl, myself a single man, and we were only talking. Why was I here? Had she only wanted me to catch up on old times, but then she had kissed me and now here we were again taking like old friends. I felt mildly disappointed. Why was I not pushing her in some way? 

I looked over at her. Sitting there on the bed, a quilt covered queen of Sheba, I guess any woman would look beautiful if you're in the right frame of mind, and mine was definitely leaning in that direction. Yet, the fuzz of alcohol was happily clouding my mind and I could only sit and appreciate her. I did nothing, Harry the Hero had learnt his lesson; don't just rush in. 

She was enthralling, she must have noticed me watching her for she moved her legs slightly, as if to cover her self more. Her skirt slid lower on her thighs, was that premeditated, or did she mean to push me away. I was torn between an action that might brake me out onto a new plain, or a passive continuation of the present. I wondered briefly what Ron would suggest, surely he would have urged me on in his characteristic need for action, yet then again this was his sister. Annoyed at feeling like I was being denied something promised to me, my judgment seemed clouded and realized I had to take a piss. 

"You haven't asked me out yet." I was startled by her grin, a naughty grin. 

"All good boys are supposed to ask good girls for a date before they start looking at them like that." Her thighs appeared again this time accompanied by a slight fingernail crescent of milky belly as her shirt rose why an upward stretch. 

"You w-ant me to" I stammered, not sure of what to do. 

She was unimpressed. I'm aware that I'm no Mr. Suave, but I felt common and ashamed all the same. The heady air in the room, the scatter of a life in disarray; it dulled my senses more than any drug. I was out of my element. Women aren't easy like evil; then you just go. There you have the clarity of adrenaline, here there are so many more small subtle factors, the way isn't clear-cut. 

"Well?" she pushed. I was unsure, I was also a fool. 

"I don't know how to do this." I answered lamely. I had had the intention of finding someone earlier that evening, hadn't I. Was that not the point of this whole evening. I had sat it out, biding my time, hoping to get swept off my feet and here I was tongue tied. 

"Do you want to go some where some time?" I faltered, hoping that would surface. 

"Harry I would love to. You're such an innocent, aren't you." 

She smiled and I was elated, but what did she mean. I don't usually count innocence as one of my prime characteristics, I always think of myself as jaded more than anything does. Tonight I could let it go. I moved to stand up and was struck with a wave of tiredness and an increased desire to use the loo. 

"I think it's time for bed." She laughed, I must have looked in a right state, my hair never agrees with me for long. 

"What? What's so funny" I demand, childish reflex. 

"I promised I wouldn't do this anymore." She said, I was feeling very sleepily, but I could still hear the evasive vagueness in her voice. 

"Do what?" 

"Stay up this late when I have work the next day." She trailed off, her voice light, content. 

I don't usually stay up past midnight, but even in that state I could still hear that she meant something more, I remembered that it was something Hermione used to do. I had never understood it. I probably never will. What they meant why they alluded to a thing then let it go. 

"Well I'm about to conk out. If you don't mind, unless…"I let my words float suggestively though I didn't mean what I had implied. Secretly I hoped she wouldn't demand it of me. 

She rose, the quilt falling away from her, in the dim light, I wanted to reach out and touch her, though I didn't. My eyes fluttered shut snapping the image, as another wave of sleep engulfed me. 

"Where's my bed?" I asked, she looked mildly surprised. She flapped her hand a moment over her bed; I felt myself yawn. 

"You can sleep in the tub, just transfigure a few of the shampoo bottles and you'll be perfectly comfortable." I nodded, turning in labored steps. 

Doddering like an old man, I made my way to the screen and reprimanded my body for its prim and proper demand for bed. I am no bad boy, I can't share their sex-appeal any more than I can posses all their nightly gallivanting prowess, I was so glad that Ginny wasn't going to demand it of me, I truly loved her for it. 

"Good night then" I said as I turned leaning on the screen, it creaked complainingly as I reached for my wand. 

"I'm working tomorrow. Do you need me to wake you up too?" 

"No, it's fine" I had transfigured a bar of soap and a bathmat into a pillow and blanket, but was aggravated by the fact that the blanket was the size of a face cloth while the pillow filled the entire tub. McGonagall would have been shamed. Taking off my pants and sweater, I thankfully relived myself. 

Exhausted, I crawled into the tub tossing the blanket aside, nicking a towel form the nearby hat stand. My body stank onto the pillow which still smelt slightly of pears soap and I felt myself drifting. I could hear the scuffle of Ginny moving around on the other side of the screen. She was mine; I couldn't keep myself from smiling. 

She may have given me a goodnight kiss or maybe I dreamed it, for I was asleep before she shut the lights off. I might have mixed it up with the morning kiss, then again they both might have been my morning fantasies. 

I woke up surpassingly free of any stiffness, the bath must have been enchanted to accommodating any size of person. I had noticed the adverts for them a couple of years back, but never really paid much attention. They were handy, the glossy billboards hadn't lied. I wonder if the manufactures had ever thought they would double as a great bed, the cushioning charm had made the ceramic surface warm and comfortable as any mattress, not quite up to the level of the one on my old Firebolt but pretty close. The soap I had transfigured had turned back in the night and was now leaving waxy residue in my hair. 

I got up glancing at my watch, shocked to find it was almost a quarter past ten. My clothes of last night were wrinkled beyond anything I had ever worn even at the Dursley's, but I had a girl. I figured the undignified shirt was worth the sacrifice. I was aglow, like a rooster, filed with the need to share the morning news. Taking out my wand I flared up the fire. Kneeling down before it in my wrinkled white collar shirt and gray slacks, I threw in a pinch of floo powder. 

"Ron Weasley, please. The Dingle" 

I was wiped though the whirling fire my body still in Ginny's room but my head finally emerging in the drawing room fireplace of Ron and Hermione's abode. 

"Ron? Any one up yet" I called. 

There was a moment of silence then padding sounds as Ron's feet appeared in my line of vision thought the drawing room doors. He entered still in his dressing gown, a piece of toast in one hand, the daily prophet in the other. 

"Good Morning Harry just caught me at brunch. What is it? You look like you just got up." I decided that with Ron it would rather just have it out. I truly doubted he'd mind, but I still felt compelled to ask him. 

"Ron, I hope you don't mind, but I fancy your sister." 

I waited, on edge, feeling suddenly the rise of nerves. There was a second's pause and I felt my face turn red, then he grinned. 

"About bloody time she found some one respectable. Have her! She'll drive you nuts. She has to be the biggest mess-pot I have ever seen." I grinned at him in return. 

"I can clean up. I don't think I'll mind, you don't seem to after all. Oh and by the way, again congratulations. Don't celebrate too much too soon." I said nodding towards the couch that lay in shocking disarray a rather lacy piece of fabric peering form where is had been worked in between the cousins. 

Ron looked stricken. I popped my head out before he could reply. One up on you Ron! I thought. Life was good and I fancied a walk, hadn't Ginny mentioned something about a wood last night. I decided to go and investigate. 

I descended the stairs as quietly as possible, though no one seemed to be about, in the yard a few chickens and a rooster strutted pecking at the earth, it was still chilly but the sun was warming fast. The rooster crowed and strutted, I couldn't help feeling some affinity to the bird, at risk of falling pray to a sly fox. 

Wasn't that what had happened to me. She was my little orange fox. She had stolen me. She would chase the hounds and be damned before she'd let them catch her. 

"Really mate, it isn't all that bad." I told the bird as he continued to peck at the dirt. 

*** 

Well, there you have it. The end of my My Socially-inept!Harry POV. This really started out as an experiment in re-characterization. Your feed back, good and bad is really appreciated, this is after all a learning experience, criticism is an essential part of it. *Hint Hint* 

**Random Minion's Reviewing Made Easy™ **

( ) Good, Great (blah blah blah).   
( ) Man… it's finished… finally.   
( ) You lazy ass, get working on its sequel while I still care.   
( ) Harry is really lame.   
( ) It was nice, even beautiful in places.   
( ) Ginny was fun, can't wait to get her perspective.   
( ) It dragged a bit and the emotion didn't come though as clearly as it might, may I suggest you (enter suggestion here).   
( ) A good ending. I especially liked (enter part here).   
( ) Man I wish some boy/girl would take me to their place, Harry gets all the action.   
( ) Hell! Harry doesn't even DESERVE the action.   
( ) Ron and Hermione, getting' it on… dirty pool!   
( ) Let me know if you ever post your sequel.   
( ) I'll beta if for you if it'll make you finish any faster.   
( ) get back to me with your comments about my comment.   



End file.
